vacations

As you already know if you're reading this, my blogging output has gone from nutso to regular to sporadic to nearly nil.

I'd rather be writing more, but enh. I'm not, and I kind of miss it, but I don't miss it enough to actually sit down and do it these days.

So I'm going to take August off of writing altogether. No projects, no smut blog, no nothing. I'll reassess in September and we'll see how it goes.

However, so as to not leave you completely bereft, I will leave you with this (only slightly edited) email I sent to d.jack, because writing it entertained me greatly, and it's still making me giggle today:

the dentist went a-ok. the dentist actually wasn't there, so the hygienist looked me over and said i would have had to come back if there were any problems. which there were not, which is good. we talked about expensive toothpaste for my sensitive gums and electric toothbrushes. and she assumed i'd had braces, which, as you know, is something that pleases me very much. and it didn't take long, so i can leave work a half hour earlier than i expected. and i got a "free" toothbrush, and 3 mini toothpastes, and 1 egg-shaped mini floss, and several coupons for the expensive toothpaste that will hopefully prevent me from having gum surgery. so all in all, it was a very nice half hour.

Enjoy August, my dears. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

I'm home now, just.

Instead of pulling out my laptop in the airport and fiddling with pictures and starting a post, I started David O'Meara's new book of poetry, a thoughtful birthday gift from the Grs.

This bit

Then the further auctioning off
of towns and hills that flashed below -- going, gone

echoed what CT said on our last trip to the El.

My mouth was set; I was looking at the ground. I could feel him beside me, or dropping back when we needed to move in single file. We were quiet, both of us. Occasionally our suitcase wheels would chunk over the sidewalk cracks in time; occasionally we'd be syncopated. Most often we followed no rhythm I could discern.

"This isn't bad for a stoic death march, is it?" he said.

I laughed, finally.

"No, certainly. Could be much much worse."

"Should give you an idea of how I felt leaving Ottawa, I think. You spend a few days, a week, trying to carve out a life for yourself, and then you feel it disappear block by block."

Truth is, I've been saying I'm going to write a blog post since Saturday. But I've either napped, sightseen or fucked my way around actually doing it.

CT is beyond lovely. He is kind and sweet; funny and thoughtful - so thoughtful! - and easygoing; more willing than I to step outside his comfort zone.

We saw a lot of stuff around the city. The aquarium on Thursday, where I kept jumping up and down and clapping my hands over the beauty of the sea creatures. The Silver Jews on Friday, after a great dinner with Sue. A walking tour of beautiful buildings yesterday. A movie and dinner date - our first real date. We took approximately one hundred rides on the El. Had a fancy drink on the 96th floor; I marvelled at the mist-covered maw of the lake tonguing the bright avenues.

We stayed in a lot too, skipping Pinback last night, going straight home after Ground Nut Stew, picking up a couple of Fat Tires at the 7-11 along the way. We had lazy mornings in bed and hanging around, slow starts to days that often ended late.

It was: busy, great, melancholy, entertaining, overwhelming. All of those words are right, technically. None of them give you the truth.

Truth is, I don't quite know what to say.

Late tomorrow afternoon, I'll be winging my way west, to the mid-west, where CT will meet me in Chicago for 5 nights of sweetness and fun.

We could use it. Not last weekend, but the weekend before, we had a very sad weekend together. I don't yet have details clearance, but suffice it to say, for the moment, that neither of us had a very happy couple of days.

I'm really looking forward to our trip, 5 days doing what we please to each other and around Chicago.

But I don't have the nervous stomach anticipation of last time. For one, I know we'll have a good time both in and out of the sack, and that it will be just plain lovely to see him; that churning anxiety just isn't there. For two, I'm already a little melancholy; I will try my best to feel that now and let it go while I have him close.

Been a timeless few days. I'm on holidays.

Last Thursday night, I left work at a ridiculously late hour. Working late to get everything done before my 11 days off.

Yes, 11 days. I'm not back at work until the 18th. Friday morning, it seemed like forever.

This weekend was a lovely blur. Eric and I spent hours going through old photos of each other, getting tipsy in various locales, eating good food, fooling around and talking. And suddenly it's Tuesday and I have a new haircut and it's almost time for yoga. What? How'd that happen? I think kissing makes time go faster.

Friday night we went to see Blades of Glory at Silver City. I've only been there once before, and I hated it. But E. had a gift certificate, so off we went to the burbs. It was as awful as I remembered it. Walking up to the door, I said to Eric, "You know, last time I was here, I got pretty panicky." And started walking slower. This time wasn't so bad, but I basically made him manouever us to a safe spot. And then I breathed and simmered the fuck down.

I have built a life where I am surrounded by People Like Me. So until I go to Gloucester, I think I am part of the norm. I never think of myself as weird or unusual or eccentric or quirky. And then I go to the movies in the suburbs and I realize that I am probably all of those things and I start to worry about the state of the world if these people all *like* coming here and the masses think this is actual culture then human beings are actually all fuckers and we're ruining the planet and we deserve to die. My hands get tingly and I feel the need to rub them together.

Blades of Glory was a pretty funny movie, though. There was one part ("That's mind-bottling." "Mind-bottling?" "Yeah, you know, when something's just too crazy and your mind gets all bottled up inside it.") that made me laugh really really hard. And Eric and I made out like teenagers, which was fun too.

Saturday was a delicious dinner at Shelley and Steve's house. Irene is learning how to knit, so I showed her a couple things. We had very nice conversations and talke *a lot* about MySpace and Facebook. It seemed, this weekend, like everywhere I went, people were talking about blogs and Facebook and MySpace. It was totally weirding me out after a while.

Sunday night, E and I were at the Manx for a beer (we had a booth! all to ourselves! oh, the luxury!) and the kids in the booth behind us started talking about Facebook and blogs. I paused in my conversation and said "You know, if I hear one more mention of Facebook, I'm taking down my profile and I am never going to blog again." Eric knew I was lying, at least about the blogging. I'm far too addicted. This was highlighted when David Scrimshaw popped into see if some other bloggers he knows were there. David and I started talking about the Elgin Street Irregular's site, and how witty they all are, especially that 4th Dwarf, until David very politely paused and said to Eric, "Do you have any idea what we're talking about?" No, he did not. Though slowly but surely, I am ensaring E. in this bloggy web. Once you get in, you can't get out.

Yesterday, we tried to go to the House of Staples. I have been dying to go to the House of Staples. Hard to tell in that photo, but that's the side window there, where all the staplers are displayed and numbered. The store was closed, so I picked out the one I want (#30), and I can't wait to go back. How does the system work, I wonder? Do you actually order by number? Is there a form to fill out? I hope there's a form and I hope it's in triplicate. I hope it smells like grease in there.

Last night, I tidied my house, fucked around on the Internet, and finally created a flickr account and uploaded some pictures of the trip I took last September. (Steve took the first one at at Risser's Beach - that's Mitch, Shelley and me from left to right.)

And now it's Tuesday afternoon and it feels like no time has passed and like my vacation is almost over.